Mark Twain, a Biography — Volume II, Part 1: 1886-1900 eBook

CXXV

THE QUIETER THINGS OF HOME

Upset and disturbed as Mark Twain often was, he seldom
permitted his distractions to interfere with the program
of his fireside. His days and his nights might
be fevered, but the evenings belonged to another world.
The long European wandering left him more than ever
enamoured of his home; to him it had never been so
sweet before, so beautiful, so full of peace.
Company came: distinguished guests and the old
neighborhood circles. Dinner-parties were more
frequent than ever, and they were likely to be brilliant
affairs. The best minds, the brightest wits,
gathered around Mark Twain’s table. Booth,
Barrett, Irving, Sheridan, Sherman, Howells, Aldrich:
they all assembled, and many more. There was
always some one on the way to Boston or New York who
addressed himself for the day or the night, or for
a brief call, to the Mark Twain fireside.

Certain visitors from foreign lands were surprised
at his environment, possibly expecting to find him
among less substantial, more bohemian surroundings.
Henry Drummond, the author of Natural Law in the Spiritual
World, in a letter of this time, said:

I had a delightful day at Hartford last
Wednesday . . . . Called on Mark Twain, Mrs.
Harriet Beecher Stowe, and the widow of Horace Bushnell.
I was wishing A——­had been at the
Mark Twain interview. He is funnier than
any of his books, and to my surprise a most respected
citizen, devoted to things esthetic, and the friend
of the poor and struggling.—­[Life of
Henry Drummond, by George Adam Smith.]

The quieter evenings were no less delightful.
Clemens did not often go out. He loved his own
home best. The children were old enough now to
take part in a form of entertainment that gave him
and them especial pleasure-acting charades. These
he invented for them, and costumed the little performers,
and joined in the acting as enthusiastically and as
unrestrainedly as if he were back in that frolicsome
boyhood on John Quarles’s farm. The Warner
and Twichell children were often there and took part
in the gay amusements. The children of that neighborhood
played their impromptu parts well and naturally.
They were in a dramatic atmosphere, and had been from
infancy. There was never any preparation for
the charades. A word was selected and the parts
of it were whispered to the little actors. Then
they withdrew to the hall, where all sorts of costumes
had been laid out for the evening, dressed their parts,
and each detachment marched into the library, performed
its syllable and retired, leaving the audience, mainly
composed of parents, to guess the answer. Often
they invented their own words, did their own costuming,
and conducted the entire performance independent of
grown-up assistance or interference. Now and
then, even at this early period, they conceived and
produced little plays, and of course their father could
not resist joining in these. At other times,
evenings, after dinner, he would sit at the piano
and recall the old darky songs-spirituals and jubilee
choruses-singing them with fine spirit, if not with
perfect technic, the children joining in these moving
melodies.